


The Seamstress

by SilentAvera



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, YOI Secret Santa 2018, some peril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 20:26:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentAvera/pseuds/SilentAvera
Summary: Good evening and salutations Viktor Nikiforov,I am Anya, a Seamstress, and I have come to you on account that you are in need of assistance. I won’t bore you with details of my existence as this letter and my work should be proof enough. I’m not a Fairy Godmother, a common misconception, Seamstresses do not grant wishes, we do patchwork. We help make what is torn, whole, to say the least of it...





	1. Needle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yuliaplisetskaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuliaplisetskaya/gifts).



> For yuliaplisetskaya~! I hope you like it X3

_Home_ to Viktor was many things.

Home was in St. Petersburg. It was by the bay. It was in the rink. It was on a podium. It was in Hasetsu. It was by his husband’s side. Viktor could think of many things that to him was ‘home.’ A web of familiarity, warmth, and comfort. Much could be _made_ a home. Stitched, sewn together.

 _Family_ to Viktor, was one thing.

And the few precious, irreplaceable faces that could garner such a title never came with ease. Reciprocating hearts are few and far in-between.

But for the two people in Viktor’s life who adorned _both_ honors, Viktor was lucky enough to still have one.

Yuuri was in the kitchen making dinner, his turn that night, a determined glint over his glasses to season the meat well, it was his first time making kotlety; he at least wanted it edible. He could see Viktor over the bar of their kitchen, he knew his husband would eat anything he made, still, * _Viktor deserves a home-cooked meal*,_ Yuuri smiled to himself, * _like how my mom made for me.*_

Viktor was ironing clothes in the living room while listening to the soundtrack of the Nutcracker, a favorite in his youth, but when ‘Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy came on, it never failed to boot him from his daily musings and into the performance of the ballet, his mind transporting himself in front of a phantom audience, he stepping onto the center stage, and the crowd cheering in anticipation for the performance on hand.

Tonight, Viktor just couldn’t resist the motions of the song, he set down the iron safely as the music took control of his body, his limbs moving in perfect rhythm with each trickle of a note, making Makkachin’s head move all about in trying to keep up with Viktor’s impressive fouettes as the celesta trotted along with its buoyant chimes, making Yuuri pause in mid-cook to watch his husband on point spin and dip and turn with such grace and ease as if he truly was the Sugar Plum Fairy –

Unbeknownst to Viktor, he had the tiniest of understudies watching him from a crease in the ceiling, with all eight of their eyes. Moving along with Viktor to the song’s melody, the little 8-legged messenger of doom descended down its string and sought out a perfect place to spin its new home. 

Viktor and the spider moved their feet in perfect time, Viktor lost in his dance, the spider focused on moving as stealthily as possible, dropping, swinging away with the sigh of the clarinet, till they landed softly on top of the couple’s bookcase, where in the space between the wall and the bookcase’s siding, they would make their new home.

As Viktor danced on oblivious, the spider began crafting its web, content. However, as the music rushed to its frantic conclusion, the impromptu whirlwind of Viktor’s repeated fouettes sent a mini gale towards the tiny spider, and it was thrown from its web to the floor, misplaced and scrambling for cover –

With a final leap, Viktor landed in the closing pose, breathless, but oh so proud he nailed it on the final note of the song –

Yuuri jumped up and down from his cooking station, _“Bravo! Bravo! Bis! Bis!”_

Breathing heavily, Viktor bowed deeply before Yuuri –

“Is there nothing you can’t do?” said Yuuri, finding it hard to focus on finishing up cooking instead of looking at his amazing husband –

Viktor finally caught his breath, “You know the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy is one of my most _favorite_ routines, that, and Coda from the Black Swan pas de duex” –

“The Royal Ballet? Oh yes, I love that one too! How many fouettes could you do?”

 _“Could?_ Hmmmm,” Viktor brought an inquisitive hand to his chin, “Let’s see, if I wanted to stay timed with the music, then about 32 to 35, but if I just, wanted to show off, then the most I ever did was 102 in a row” –

_“102?!”_

“I’m Russian Yuuri, regardless, that was _years_ ago!” Viktor laughed, “I think I was 13 or 14, I didn’t have all this muscle on me now!”

Yuuri blushed, “Well I like you with all this muscle.”

“Hmp~ It helped having an audience, you know I love to put on a show for my fans, big or small, real, or, otherwise, friends or, ah, family” – Viktor suddenly disappeared out of Yuuri’s sight, leaving Yuuri to only hear his voice, “I’ll go make us some tea to go with dinner, yes?”

 _*In the closet?*_ Yuuri thought, “Okay!”

It’s not often Yuuri hears that tone in Viktor’s voice, as if he’s holding back, Viktor rarely holds back on anything, but whatever it was, Viktor smoothed it over via his trademarked performances (internal, or otherwise), and Yuuri couldn’t help but muse on what it could be that troubled his husband.

As Viktor set their places (trays in front of their couch), Yuuri noticed an 8 legged critter suddenly scurry its way across the floor (running for its dear life), Yuuri quickly looked around for a shoe, but Viktor was faster, he snatched up a newspaper sheet as he trotted over, making his steps light as to not agitate it further, and guided the spider onto the paper like a pro, then, he released the insect out onto their patio.

It never failed to amuse Yuuri with the ease in how Viktor handled _spiders,_ spiders! For all the insects that sent shivers up his husband’s spine, _spiders,_ was _not_ one of them.

Yuuri listened intently as Viktor softly tut-tutted the little bug, he was able to pick apart some of the words that meant, ‘be careful’, ‘stay warm’ but one word ‘shveyka’ always stuck out; he assumed it was another word for the creature; Yuuri did at least know a proper word for spider was ‘pauk’…. Shveyka might be slang.

Viktor returned to his seat by Yuuri with a much calmer demeanor,

“Viktor…”

“Hm~?”

“‘Shveyka’, what does that mean?”

“Oh, aaaaaah, ‘little cute seamstress.’”

Yuuri couldn’t help but smile, “Seamstress? All this time, you’ve been calling the spiders _Seamstress?”_

Viktor’s smile was a bit more mute, but he couldn’t hide his blush, “Yes, I do, it’s something that I’ve held onto since my childhood.”

“That’s adorable. _Shveyka,_ I’ve never thought of spiders as such, but I guess they are in way.”

There was that far away look in Viktor’s eyes again, but this time, as Viktor gazed into his tea, it was much more fond, reminiscent, as if something was warming his heart aside from the food in his body (which was edible after all much to Yuuri’s delight).

Yuuri nudged Viktor, “Ney, talk to me, what’s going through your mind?”

“Oh…..Mh…..Hm….”

Yuuri sipped loudly on his tea, drawing a smile from Viktor.

“Hm…you know, how,” Viktor began tentatively, “When you were little, your parents would tell you fairy tales to help explain things?”

“All the time, I still get a little chill walking by rivers…”

“Hm, well, I met one. The Seamstress, _‘Shveyka’_ , a fuzzy female spider about the size of your palm that hides in your closet and fixes up your clothes to impeccable conditions.”

“…It that a Russian fairy tale?”

“To be honest, it’s not really a fairy tale at all because it really happened to me. In my youth, when I was, in not so good a place, Shveyka appeared, and, helped me patch myself together to get me back on track….they did, many good things for me…”

The silence that followed in Viktor’s pauses almost had a physical presence, stuffing Yuuri’s ears so completely he found himself listening harder. Yuuri set down his teacup and snuggled close to his husband, “Tell me, tell me all about, ‘Shveyka.’” Yuuri could feel Viktor was tense.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes I do. But let me guess, you’ve told this story to people in the past and none of them believed you, right?”

Viktor sighed, “Not even Chris.”

“Well, it’s a shame that magic has gone so underappreciated.”

Almost instantly Yuuri felt some of the tension ease out of Viktor; he nuzzled his husband,

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Viktor warned.

“As if I’m going to be anywhere else but your side.”

Viktor kissed Yuuri, and wrapped an arm around him. As the couple had the snowfall for ambiance, he began….

 

_I had a rough day at the rink. Rougher than normal. It’s quite true when they say it’s lonely at the top._

_They’re scared of me, scared of what I can become, what I represent, and how fast I’m surpassing them. My coach cherishes me, but for every praising comment he gives me, I receive dozens more in harassment. Snickers. Mumblings. Mentions. Rumors. Gossip. All done in the creases and nooks of our superiors. I’m not scared of them, really. I just want to skate. Call me all the horrible names you like, it doesn’t change the fact I can land a triple axel and you cannot. That I landed my first quad years before you did. That my step sequences surpass some of the senior ranks. No. They don’t bother me. Besides, their families would never believe their precious child would utter such terrible nonsense to their peer._

_I’ve always dealt being the odd one out, without, dismissed, but now, as I sit atop this peak of a rising star, what cold was once comfort I now feel bite right through me. I thought I would be able to handle it. I still think I can, it’s just willpower. I’m my own motivation, for you see, every cheer and well done that comes from a parent, or friend from the benches, none of it is for me. They’re cheering for their own child. I’m just ‘that one kid who’s always out on the rink.’ I hear the parents wonder about me, but nothing ever further than that. The only thing I wholly receive that no one else does are the glares from my rink mates during practice. If their envy was fire, they would burn this place down._

_One boy who is particularly nasty to me fell on a jump hard today. His mother almost rushed out onto the ice herself to help him. Ever since, I’ve had the urge to cry stuffed in my stomach. Not for him, but for what I will never, ever have._

Viktor, about 13 or 14, returned to an empty apartment from skating practice. His long hair in a pony tail, due to be cut soon, but perhaps he’ll keep it long for a while yet.

He neatly placed his skating gear away, did some ballet exercises, made himself dinner, washed, bathed, brushed his teeth, and called it a night. There is no noise in the apartment save for his movements against the sheets….He laid there in the silence, silence that is slowly giving way to a light ringing in his ears, perhaps it was so quiet that he could hear the moonbeam’s glow through his window.

One tear drops, then another, another, until Viktor is sobbing in his bed, huddling in on himself. He hurts, his whole body hurts, especially his feet, but the pain will go away, it always does. In the morning he’ll take a warm bath, he loves baths, and the cycle will start again. Viktor curled up in on himself and cried himself to sleep.

 

Viktor took a long breath as he stretched, getting through warm-ups is important, and against the chill of the rink, to feel himself get fired up always sent a pleasurable spark through him.

“Ah, Vitya, there you are.”

“Good morning Yakov.”

“Listen, my wife is here to take your measurements, be sure to tell her any other adjustments you want for your costume, once it’s made, it’s made.”

“I will, thank-you Yakov!”

_A performer is half of their costume, and unfortunately, ice skating fashion can easily run up over 650,000 rubles. At the time, this was an act of charity I knew I would never be able to repay but with what I could produce for him as his student, however I was totally up to the challenge._

Viktor knew the costume he would be gifted with wouldn’t be too showy, but he could dream one day that he’d be adorned in gems and sequins that glittered with all his movements over the ice.

_And someone would tell me I’m beautiful, and mean it. Ah, I’m about fired up now~!_

Viktor heard a mother scold her child for wanting to wear their costume, but the kid insisted they wanted to look pretty, and they relented. Sure enough, and on the first jump no less, they fell, ripped their costume, cried, and was instantly consoled that mommy would patch it up for them good as new.

Viktor hugged himself, rubbing his fabric through his index finger and thumb….* _Surely, Lilia wouldn’t mind*,_ if she was making the costume for him, * _she must know children get into scrapes all the time, after all, she and Yakov were thinking about trying for their own, she wouldn’t mind, maybe, just the once…*_

Then again, Viktor just doesn’t fall.

Viktor scanned the benches for Lilia, but of course she wasn’t there. This was a favor, a favor to a friend of a friend, of a friend, Viktor knew he was nothing more than a favor; he had to make himself more.

Only then he’ll be adored.

Viktor threw himself into speed, jumped, and landed a quadruple toe loop that had Yakov pause where he stood and the other coach Mikah jump up and down hollering and hollering showers of praise.

_*Now when I do that in costume, I won’t even notice them, not at all.*_

The fallen child threw his glares Viktor’s way.

_*Your costume is stupid anyway.*_

The day passed a little faster than normal, Viktor was looking forward to the reliable silence of his apartment so he could daydream in peace. In the locker room, he received two crumpled paper towels to the face coated in something disgusting, he washed himself up as best he could and made a beeline for the exit.

*They’re getting more daring,* he thought, *It’s okay, all I have to do is focus on myself, they keep worrying about me so of course they won’t get better. And they never will. They’ll die alone and forgotten and I’ll be loved around the world, millions and millions of people will know my name.* Viktor sniffled, his throat going tight, _*They’re the ones who will die miserable and alone.*_

Once home, Viktor went through his nightly routine, neatly placing everything away and came to find a sealed envelope on the kitchen counter. He easily slit it open with his finger and fished out the money sent to him for rent, food, and other necessities. They always sent enough, _‘just barely’_ enough. After counting out the money, he crumples everything else and chucks it in the trash.

He hates nights when _the letter_ is delivered, it always throws him off his game and he’ll forget to do a thing or two and in the morning he’ll be rushing to get everything done, and if he’s late that just shaves off precious time he could be spending on the ice.

After Viktor finished his ballet practice, he decided to leave the music on, playing the CD over and over, and when it was time for bed, he set it to play once more. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts tonight, alas the silence wouldn’t do him any good this time, no matter how reliable, besides, The Nutcracker music was on his short list of favorites.

Viktor wrapped himself up like a burrito in his blankets, full of bitterness and determination, making a mental note to stop by the landlord’s office to pay his dues ahead of time, as always. He felt a chill by his feet, but instead of investigating the source, Viktor curled up more in his blanket, letting his mind get lost in The Land of Sweets.

Sure enough he had forgotten to close the window, but he would never know, as come morning it would be shut and locked. When Viktor awoke, he found his apartment feeling warmer than usual, not in a temperature wise way, but more, ‘homely.’

Everything around the place looked as if it got a good dusting, scrubbing – Viktor is known for keeping his apartment clean as a whistle, but it felt like someone came in overnight and gave it a one-two do over and wrapped it in a bow. Perhaps the air condition blew a little strong throughout the night in the complex, who knows, but Viktor isn’t going to question the sunshine in his space, he welcomed it, and chalked it up to him not really knowing how a good a cleaner he really was since he hardly acknowledges his living quarters as anything less than a placeholder.

For the first time, in a long time, Viktor skipped the entire way to the rink.

 

Viktor skated up to Yakov, holding his chin high in now landing the Quadruple Toe-Loop as if it was second nature.

“Amazing, as always Vitya, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves in doing quads, they ask a lot of your body. You’ve have the Toe-Loop down pat, your technical feats are on point. You are building up an impressive repertoire that will place you in very good standing for juniors this year. Let’s go over your step sequence, there” –

Just behind Yakov in Viktor’s line of sight, he saw the meanest person of the group, Aleksandr, shoot him the bird, Viktor just rolled his eyes –

 _“Don’t roll your eyes at my Vitya_ , this is very important to learn, you might have some fancy new tricks up your sleeve, but if you think for a second you’re going to waltz into your senior debut after this, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Viktor didn’t bother to correct Yakov that he was rolling his eyes at Aleksandr, what difference would it make? What could he do? He isn’t Viktor’s father. Viktor has no one, and so he must deal with it all by himself, just as he’s done; it’s nothing he can’t handle. _*Besides, this place can’t really afford to lose too many more students….If I tell him what’s going on, things will only get worse….As long as I’m silent, as long as I can just get through this, everyone will be much better off…..*_

Back in the locker rooms, Viktor was hurrying in gathering his things, keeping his eyes low. He felt Aleksandr’s presence draw near. Viktor doesn’t want to fight, he knows if he lets his anger free, he’s going to really hurt one of these jealous idiots and get banished from the rink via angrier parents.

Viktor steadied his breath, thinking to himself, _*I’m showing you mercy you don’t deserve, if anything, I want you here, I want you here so when I beat you by fifty points, you’ll look at me know and you’ll never, ever, be at my level* –_

“You’re only here under charity,” said Aleksandr, “something to feel sorry for to give the organization a boost in relevancy and soften up donor’s pockets.”

Viktor only smirked.

 _‘Something’,_ Aleksandr wouldn’t even acknowledge Viktor as a person, but that’s okay, Viktor treasures places over people, a person can refuse you, but a place can’t, you just have to reach it –

Aleksandr slammed Viktor’s locker shut, “Look at me.”

Viktor looked over to the garbage tin.

Aleksandr grabbed Viktor by the scruff of his sweater and slammed him against the lockers – the other skaters went about their business, not even pausing for a second – Viktor only smiled against Aleksandr’s snarl, if a coach could just walk in right about now, that would be ssssssuper nice~! But they didn’t –

“What you perform today doesn’t mean a thing if you can’t do it in a competition. _Remember that.”_

Viktor was standing squarely on his feet, but to even reach him, Aleksandr was on his toes, Viktor couldn’t help but snicker over his fear at that, which only enraged Aleksandr further – another rink mate finally stepped up, putting a hand on Aleksandr’s shoulder –

“Aleksandr stop it, what if a coach comes in” –

Aleksandr shoved Viktor hard against the lockers before he let go, without a word, Viktor grabbed his things and left; his heart was pounding in his chest, truthfully, he _couldn’t_ speak, that was the first time, in a long time, someone had gotten physically violent with him, and Viktor was chilled to his core.

As Viktor walked out, every step was pushing the button for Aleksandr’s worst impulses to let loose – Aleksandr snatched up the garbage tin and threw it after Viktor, he missed, and Viktor ran for all he was worth once he felt the tin whiz by him.

The ruckus of the tin clattering about made a few skaters yell at him for making so much noise, and only then did Yakov come in hollering what all the commotion was all about. The only confession made was that Aleksandr was walking and accidentally kicked the tin.

“Were you emulating soccer? There’s a dent in this thing, how hard were you walking?”

“Guess I’m stronger than I know.”

Viktor ran all the way home, a couple cars blaring their horns at him as he took a chance running across the street where he wasn’t supposed to. Once he got home, the moment he closed the door, he sank down in tears, holding himself, curling up his knees to his chest, and cried, and cried, and cried with only his echoing tears as company.

After nearly drowning himself where he sat, Viktor pushed himself up, his nightly routine was thoroughly trashed for the evening. Viktor could barely eat, he couldn’t even bear to think about tomorrow and how the clock was tick, tick, ticking away till he would have to do this all over _again, and again, and again, and again, and again…._

With shaking hands, Viktor washed his dishes, drying the spots left with a paper towel, focusing on the monotony of the motion as if it would hypnotize him from his thoughts, feeling the bubbles, feeling the warm water turn cold, and bite through him. When he finally rinsed the plate to put it away, near the drying rack, out of the corner of his eye, Viktor noticed a tiny envelope on his counter with a dewdrop shaped seal. It couldn’t have been larger than the size of a kopeck, and was adorned in the smallest flowers Viktor had ever seen. Intrigued, Viktor dried his hands and carefully plucked the tiny envelope between his thumb and index finger…There was a little bit of weight to it, he could barely feel the grooves in the seal, but they were there…..Overtly cautious, Viktor opened the envelope as gently as he could, and found just as small a letter with perfect penmanship. Despite the wording being written to the scale of the letter, Viktor found he could read them as easily as his own written words:

 

_Good evening and salutations Viktor Nikiforov,_

_I am Anya, a Seamstress, and I have come to you on account that you are in need of assistance. I won’t bore you with details of my existence as this letter and my work should be proof enough. I’m not a Fairy Godmother, a common misconception, Seamstresses do not grant wishes, we do patchwork. We help make what is torn, whole, to say the least of it, all in all, I hope to be a good Seamstress for you. When you are in need of my services, all I require is a window to be left open at night so I can catch food. Any clothes you need repaired, please make sure they’re in the closet, and come morning, they will be pristine, such is the duty of a Seamstress, if you didn’t already know._

_I will be with you as long as you need me._

_You need not to ask to dismiss me if I am no longer desired, I will know._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

_P.S. I will also fix other fabric items as well, such as blankets, pillow shams, ect. And I also have a special skill in remaking shoes, all you have to do it place them in the closet._

_P.S.S. I also on occasion do clean, but you have such a tidy home, I believe I won’t have to exercise that skill too much._

_P.S.S.S You are wonderful ballet dancer._

 

Viktor clutched the tiny letter, his fingers twitching, the trash can just a wrist’s flick away, but once again he found a part of himself immobilized.

Were they toying with him? Were they slighting him for how he obtained his costume? Who else could it be? Who else was in this apartment? Was he not alone? Was someone waiting to hurt him in his closet? Were they going to snatch him away in the middle of the night to beat him senseless…?

Viktor took all his blankets from his bed and he slept in the bathroom, in the tub, with the door locked. But he only lasted half the night, since his legs were starting to hurt from their cramped position (he is tall after all). He went back to his bed thinking if he as to die tonight, so be it – he can die on top – he went over to his closet and threw it wide open, letting his fear, his imagination running wild of all sorts of terrible things waiting to claim him from the dark depths, red eyes staring at him, hands reaching for him, someone standing there, waiting to grab him – Viktor jumped out of bed and turned on every light in the apartment, and after being thoroughly exhausted from his fear, fell asleep on the couch watching TV.

Viktor woke up with a crick in his back. His stretching helped alleviate it, but that put him behind in his morning routines, thus making him rush to gain back those minuets. Viktor never noticed another tiny envelope on the counter, and his rushing made a wind that blew it into the garbage can.

The sun rose and fell, and Viktor felt as if he was carrying it all in his chest as he walked home. Another mixed day. He actually fell on his first jump, then got back up and landed a Salchow. Distress, success, the glares, repeat.

They were starting to really, really get to him.

But Viktor pushed through.

It’s weird being caught in-between respected and disciplined. Their first competition was in a week, hard to believe, and despite his rocky day, Viktor made it clear in practice that he was going to be the one adorned in a gold medal. Since he almost died from his stupid fears last night, there was nothing holding him back today, not even a fall, that was just left over nerves, this was the Viktor of the future having come to cement his place in history, he could have been killed by some freak hiding in his apartment, but he didn’t, this was a second chance at life, now is time to make the most of it, to be who he knows, who he is destined to be.

Aleksandr tried to hit him today, but he got held back by his friends.

Competition is in one week, let that sort them out.

When Viktor got home, he was moving slow, not deliberately, there was just a lot to think about. In his ballet practice, he would perform different numbers from all sorts of ballets, next, he was to do La Esmerelda, buuuuuut, he’s had a hard time, so he decided to switch things up a bit and do one of his personal favorites.

He put on the Nutcracker CD, and immediately went to the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.

As the strings crept up in volume, Viktor’s movements were timed perfectly with the song, tilting his outspread arms playfully with each note. When the celesta came in, he came alive, he was no longer Viktor Nikiforov, he was the Sugar Plum Fairy, the Ruler of The Land of Sweets.

His footwork was second nature, the envy of every practitioner of ballet, he glided across the floor so fluid and elegantly hardly a hair on the carpet was rustled, for every inquisitive clarinet note, a different fouetté (his favorite being Italian fouettés). He moved his arms like a ribbon in the breeze, and in-between his lifts, turns and raises, his ankles, and hips, and legs, and arms never once wavered from fatigue, pirouette, raise, pirouette, raise, pirouette, raise, and floating on point as the celesta trickled through its notes like dripping water. He tickled the air with cabrioles, channeled the clarinet with pique tours, his attitude was that of a prima ballerina, and as soon as the celesta began its final cascade of notes, Viktor did a dazzling set of pique turns all around the living room, never losing balance, never dropping his arms, turn, after turn, after turn, after turn, after turn with Viktor hopping into the final pose as the notes stopped on a chime.

Over the sound of his heavy breathing through his nose, Viktor could have sworn he heard the tiniest _‘Bravo! Bravo! Bravo! Bis! Bis!’,_ but his ears were ringing from his exertions; he thought nothing further of it and left to go take a long, well deserved bath; when he was done, he was starving.

After dinner, Viktor washed his dishes dutifully, once again almost getting lost in the monotony of the motions till he noticed out of the corner of his eye something out of place….Viktor paused. On the counter, was another envelope, two in fact, one standing alone, another laid against a tiny wrapped cube with red wrapping paper, and green ribbon. Viktor blinked, looked about himself, the apartment, blinked again, dried his dishes and washed his hands and with trembling fingers opened the letter, its writings ever tiny, but again, he could read it with no trouble.

 

_Dear Viktor Nikiforov,_

_I must apologize for scaring you so badly, it certainly was not my intent. I know you have had an extremely hard time as of late, and I do not want to give you anymore stress. Once again, you need not ask for me to leave, I will know, and I will honor that wish._

_Please know that you dance so beautifully Viktor, no one can ever take that away from you, no matter how hard they try._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

 

He opened the second letter, all it read was,

 

_From your tiniest fan, please accept this sugar cube for your tea,_

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

_P.S. I may have 8 legs, but I could never move as gracefully as you do._

 

_Blink, blink._

Viktor carefully unwrapped the tiny cube, and indeed inside, was a sugar cube. He sniffed it, it smelled sweet as sugar would, but, perhaps it’s poison, maybe rat poison, it really does smell sweet however….Viktor made himself a pot of tea along with a snack, final snack perhaps, if he knew he was going to die tonight he would have bought better food. Viktor sat himself at the table, placed the sugar cube in his tea, it dissolving into the brew leaving a crystalline shine….he savored his tiny treat, sipped his tea, and….instead of dying…Viktor drank the best cup of tea in his entire life, going so far as to stretching his tongue out to get every drop, every molecule of the liquid, the sensation almost making him forget about the terrible times he had before.

Completely warm and cozy inside, and kinda creeped out, but more warm than creeped out, Viktor finally let himself begin to believe that his entity that has made their presence known to him, is, in fact, a good thing.

*Eight legs….* Viktor thought, *Eight…..legs……*

That is very creepy. He knew what it _could_ be, what it _had_ to be, and the more he thought about it, the more impossible it seemed.

What was even more impossible was that someone would actually be fond of him, _for him,_ but now here they were, wanting nothing more than to help him, and it left Viktor utterly bewildered.

If they were in his apartment, if they truly were here and meant to do him harm, they would have done it by now wouldn’t they? What were they waiting for? If they were waiting for him to be caught off guard, he does sleep….And Viktor wasn’t about to sleep with one eye open, sleeping, dreaming, that is the only time he’s free.

If they come in the night, then he’ll be able to dream forever.

*Do what you will entity,* Viktor thought, *I’m going to bed.*

 

“Oh Liliya, I love it!” Viktor swooned.

“Good, I’m glad, you deserve better, but this will do for now.”

His costume was simple, black and grey with a red sash around the middle and sequins trailing down the back, but the care in it was what truly touched Viktor, a gift, well, that would be his second gift in fact –

_“Thank-you! Thank-you! Thank-you so much~!”_

“Go, put it on, let’s see what the future junior champion will look like.”

Viktor couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy, and like he foretold, he didn’t notice _them,_ he didn’t notice them at all.

And once Viktor heard his first cheer from the stand for _him,_ from Aleksandr’s _own mother,_ followed by showers of praise from all the other parents, he was doomed. Whatever patience, grace, mercy if you will, the other rink mates had for Viktor, evaporated.

Come mid-break so many were asking about him, about the future champion, Viktor was excited, excited beyond measure, he took notice of nothing else. Back in the locker room he couldn’t help but admire himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help but wonder how amazing it is going to feel on that podium if the cheers today, for him, _for him!_ Were any indication…

Viktor, lost in his thoughts, didn’t notice how quiet it was around him, how his rink mates were sizing him up. Viktor felt their presences, but he was so happy, _so happy,_ leaving him vulnerable and blind-sided – Aleksandr grabbed Viktor by his pony tail and yanked his head back, then they all were upon him.

In the chaos of it all, the scene was incredibly quiet, save for Viktor hearing every strike travel through his body, he couldn’t even scream, he was in shock just trying to protect his head.

When they were finished in their attack, Viktor’s costume was shredded in pieces off of him; sequins and glittered remains peppered the ground, his body stamped with nasty bruises.

 _“There,”_ Aleksandr sneered, _“Now, that is a costume worthy of you.”_

Viktor coughed, tears streaming down his face, he wrapped his arms around himself, holding what was left of his costume’s remains, and pushed past his assailants, he grabbed his bag –

 _“Don’t forget this!”_ They began pelting him with trash –

Viktor swung on his coat to cover his bare skin, and rushed past a rather bewildered Yakov, “Vitya! Hey – _where are you going?!”_

Viktor couldn’t bring himself to scream back ‘I QUIT!’ he just kept running, ignoring Yakov’s calls for him to stay, the wind that sought weaknesses in his coat froze his bare skin underneath.

Yakov stormed into the locker room, _“WHAT HAPPENED?”_

 

Viktor ran, and ran, and ran, he couldn’t stop. If he were to trip into a ditch, fine. if a car were to hit him, fine. Viktor did not stop until he made it to his apartment, and locked himself inside; he crumpled on the living room floor and cried, and cried, and cried, and cried.

Afternoon became dusk, dusk became evening, evening became night. Not once did Viktor move. He wad dead, truly dead this time, they killed him, sure his body might still be alive, but Viktor Nikiforov, is dead.

Well, now he was hungry.

With what little strength he had left, Viktor pushed himself up, the tattered remains of his costume all but falling off him. He let the pieces scatter around the apartment till he changed into pajamas, he’ll bathe in the morning, if he tried now, he’ll probably drown. He opened a can of peaches and downed that.

Then Viktor remembered the letter.

They fix clothes.

Hm.

Maybe they had left? He doesn’t remember wishing them to leave…maybe it was already too late, yes, yes it is too late, far too late to do anything, the competition is in two days.

And yet…

With nothing to lose, but to sink himself even deeper in this mire, Viktor gathered the tattered remains of his costume and placed them in the closet, opened the window, and left to cry himself to sleep, having gone to bed with hardly a satisfying meal on top of this terrible, terrible day.

Morning came, but Viktor wished it didn’t.

He pushed himself out of bed, shuffled over to the closet, he didn’t know what to expect, but as soon as his vision adjusted itself out of sleep….there was his costume, complete, hanging before him in pristine condition and improved with a grey glistening scarf, added accent gems, _real gems_ , with a red blaze down the pant legs and up the arms.

Viktor fainted on the spot.


	2. Thread

As soon as Viktor got to his apartment, he walked to his closet door, still adorned in his restored costume, and opened the doors wide. He looked up into the darkness of it and felt not an ounce of fear, but a sense of wonder and delight of the soul that had made their, _home,_ here.

Viktor took a deep breath, he had been thinking about what he wanted to say all day, but now, there was so much, _so much excitement,_ joy, exhilaration, appreciation….

“Anya…you’re real...” Viktor said to the darkness, he placed his hand over his heart, “Anya, thank-you…thank-you so much! I..eh-heh…I can’t even begin to say how much…what you did…honestly I’ve been pinching myself all day thinking I’m dreaming, but I’m not!......”

All that answered Viktor back was silence, but he continued.

“You should have seen their faces! When I walked into practice, with my costume on, their mouths _dropped,_ I mean they fell all the way through the floor!” Viktor laughed, “And, and, in front of everyone, _everyone,_ even his _mother,_ Aleksandr skated up to me and accused me of starting a fight, he got right in my face, but I didn’t back down, I just stood there, let him say all his poison, I saw Yakov in the background cross his arms, he knew, _he knew_ Aleksander was up to no good Anya, he must have! Well, needless to say, the company at the skating rink is much smaller now, Yakov and the other coaches, and, some, of the parents believe me, but Aleksandr and a majority of his cronies are no longer there, they went to another rink, and honestly that’s for the best.”

Still all that answered Viktor back was silence. He tilted his head, trying to peek, to peer into the darkness, maybe, he could catch a glimpse…?

“I know you’re real, this isn’t a dream, I haven’t been imagining things, is, um, is there a reason you have to stay hidden? There’s a reason you have to stay hidden, it must be so…I really, really would like to give you a hug. I would like to make you dinner, I could make you tea? Do you like tea? Do you drink tea?”

Silence.

“…Do you know what tea is? Of course you do, you made a most delicious sugar cube for me…Mh. Well, I hope we can talk face to face one night, I’m going to be pretty busy in the coming days, and I’m, well, to be honest, really nervous, and it’s not you, it’s not you Anya it’s me, so, you’re not scaring me. I just, well my emotions can leak out…I’m getting better at controlling them. So, ah….um…”

Silence.

Viktor pouted, “I know you can write, so you can talk, can you not even say a word to me? I would like to get to know the angel that fixed my costume…someone so beautiful…shouldn’t hide away….Are…are you afraid I’m going to hurt you? Beat you up? I would never do such a thing! I know the fear of…the fear of…..getting hurt…just for who you are….you’ve seen me hurt….you must have….so you must know….I would never hurt you Anya….Angel in my Closet, eh, Seamstress?”

Silence.

“Well…I’m going to do my nightly routines, I hope we can find a way to communicate…..Goodnight Anya. Thank-you for everything.”

Before he went to bed, Viktor found another wrapped sugar cube and a note.

 

_Dear Viktor Nikiforov,_

_Thank-you so much for your kind words. I must stay hidden due to Seamstress protocol, I hope you understand, it is nothing against you. I know your competition is soon, please place any clothes, or shoes, I can fix shoes too, in the closet that you would like fixed up to make your Grand Prix debut, and I will make them immaculate._

_Children do fall and get into scrapes, but none should ever have a fist raised towards them._

_I wish I could make it so another soul would never lay a hand on you. My heart broke upon seeing your bruises…_

_Be strong. You are more than they ever will be. I know that for a fact._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

 

Viktor ran back to the closet, his throat tight, but he croaked out, “Thank-you Anya!”

Silence. Viktor wiped his face, sighed, it was a happy sigh, but still, it felt _so good_ to have someone on his side. Viktor chose the clothes he was going to wear and placed them in the closet, leaving the door and window open.

Nightly routine done, Viktor flopped on his bed, exhausted, but so happy….tomorrow…tomorrow, he will skate at the first competition of the season….He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scared, or how there was a very real possibility of this being a huge turning point in his life….Viktor tried to fall asleep, but just couldn’t, an hour ticked by, an hour of rest he needed….He closed his eyes and imagined someone was holding his hand…he held onto that musing as tightly as he could, trying to think of how nice it would be…..how nice it would be if someone….could just…..Viktor looked to the closet.

Even if there was nothing he needed fixed, it seemed rude to shut it, especially with, someone living in there, in the depths…Someone who was going to fix his clothes out of the kindness of their heart.

It brought comfort to Viktor that he didn’t have just the silence to be reliable, there was something attached to it. Viktor turned on his side, finally feeling the pull of sleep tugging at him, and as he was on the edge of drifting off, he was graced with the feeling of a warmth wrapping itself around his hand, and he finally conked out.

His hand was in fact being held.

She had crept out of her space in the closet, 8 legs allowing her to move as quietly as the resonance of the void, she took Viktor’s hand into her paw, breaking a strict, strict protocol, _what if he saw her…?!_ But Viktor needed this…..Thus as soon as he felt the warmth from her flow into him, he fell into a deep, deep sleep, regaining that lost hour and more.

Once Viktor was deep in sleep, Anya went to work on making the clothes Viktor chose as good and new as the day they were bought, which was some time ago. Upon finishing, come the first morning rays, she closed the window, food in tow, and the closet door, retreating back into the keep of the closet, watching Viktor stir and wake to a new day.

He opened the closet door to find everything, everything he put in there, as fresh as flowers.

Viktor could hardly contain his heart, “THANK-YOU ANYA!!!”

When Viktor returned from the competition, he was adorned in a gold medal. He immediately ran to his closet and swung the doors as open as they’ll go –

“Look! Look Anya look! I won! I won by a landslide! Oh you should have seen it, it was amazing Anya! It was so much fun! The plane ride was _so boring_ but once we touched down in Japan, IT WAS ALL SO AMAZING!! Have you seen Japan, do you know what Japan is? It’s a country, and it was all these amazing” – on and on and on and on Viktor talked, recounting his first competition, saying all he wanted to say and more, so _much_ more, _and more after that!_

With Viktor panting (out of breath), he seemed to have gotten most of his frantics out of him, “Eh heh, I’m sorry, I must have talked your ear off…Wait…do, do you have ears?! Are you deaf?! Have I been talking to someone with no ears this whole time?!” Viktor’s hands went to his face, “Wait, no, you must be able to hear me? Or am I assuming too much? UUUUUGH. I’ll learn sign language, I’ll do it! Oh Anya I’m so sorry!”

Viktor fell asleep that night with a fresh library book on sign language in his lap, come morning, there was another envelope on his counter, along with another sugar cube.

 

_Dear Viktor Nikiforov,_

_Your words have touched me, truly. I am so happy that your outlook on things have improved. Also, I can hear you, although learning Sign Language is still a good skill to obtain, learning new languages opens up more people you’ll be able to talk with, and I have a feeling you’ll be talking with many, many people all over the world._

_You are an incredibly strong person Viktor, despite your injuries, you still went on to compete._

_And won._

_Another sugar cube for your tea, rest well, you have healing to do now. I will be watching over you._

_I will be here as long as you need me._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

 

Viktor never felt safer in his apartment than he did right now. He rubbed his arms, he had all but forgotten the impact of their fists upon seeing his costume revived. He is sore, but, it will heal…

Viktor took a warm, warm bath, and retired for the night.

“Goodnight Anya.”

As he drifted off, he swore he heard in the smallest voice, “Goodnight Viktor.”

The next day was a day off for Viktor, so he caught up on some school work, reading notes his teachers had left him on his subject journals. He got good grades, he was well above his grade level, and so long as his studies were on time, he could continue his schooling via this method.

As Viktor read through his journals, studying, he got an idea on how he and Anya could improve their communication.

Viktor returned from the store that day with an armful of journals.

“Anya! Let’s talk like this! You write, and then I’ll write something! Or, I’ll talk really, but I can write too! Can we do that? Can we talk that way? I think it works! Can we give it a shot? I’m sorry, I have so many questions! Do you really have to continue to stay hidden? Where are you from? How did you learn to sew so well? How did you find me at first? How did you know I needed someone like you? Okay, I’ll look away, I’m going to go do stuff, but if you can only talk at night, I’ll understand too, I just, really want to get to know you Anya!”

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_I have no trouble communicating this way, it fits in with my rules just fine. One, I am from a Constellation, we help keep the stars connected, and every so often we come down to earth to help someone in need. Two, I was born of the concept of sewing, the knowledge is, how shall I put it ‘sewn’ into me, I hope you understand. I found you because I heard your heart break, as a Seamstress, it is our duty to help make things whole, and patching a broken heart is a special task a Seamstress maybe bequeathed to fulfill. I am very happy to be your Seamstress. I suppose that also answers how I knew you needed someone like me. But to answer the most important question, yes, I must stay hidden, above all the rules of a Seamstress, that is one all must take to heart, it is for our safety._

_I know you are a good person Viktor, but I must follow protocols. You are very, very sweet to extend your warmth out to me, and again, I am truly touched by it._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

 

“Anya, how do you make these sugar cubes?”

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_The sugar cubes are made from sugar plucked from a flower that has caught a dew drop from a star, it’s more common than you think. Each grain is collected and patched together by hand. Mind you I do this with mittens on, as it is rude to make sugar cubes with your bare paws._

_I hope you continue to enjoy them._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

 

“Anya, I understand you need to stay hidden, but I can keep a secret! How come I cannot see you either?”

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_As I said before, it is a rule we remain hidden, because it is for our safety. Our appearances….we’re not exactly what you would call, ‘agreeable.’ I know you will tell me that is not true, and I appreciate it, really, but far too many Seamstresses have been returned to heaven with more than just a wish for us to leave. I would much rather leave on more positive terms, that is to say, when you are ready for me to leave, and I will know._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

 

“Anya, I would never hurt you! I would never, EVER betray you like that!!! Please, can we ever meet? Can I see you? Can I hug you?”

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_I understand you have this wish, but I must uphold the rules of being a Seamstress. It is nothing against you dear Viktor, you are a very sweet, sweet young man, but it is for the best, especially for our relationship. I know you mean well, I know you do, but please do not pursue this subject any longer._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

 

“I’m sorry Anya….Can, can I make you food sometime? Tea? At least?”

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_I must confess, at night, once I catch my food, I do make use of your teapot, but of course I clean it and leave everything in perfect order after use. I’m afraid our tastes in tea are very different, mine is, rather strong, shall I say. Please don’t trouble yourself._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

 

“Anya! Anya! I entered a contest at the grocery store, and I won! I got a ticket to go see the air show in town! Have you seen people jump out of planes before?! I think I’ll jump out of a plane! Wouldn’t that just be the coolest?!

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_No._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

 

“Booo~ Hehehehehe X3 Oh! Anya, Lilia said something so ridiculous today, that Green Onions and Scallions are the same thing! They’re not!”

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_I have something of importance to tell you…..Green Onions, and Scallions…are indeed the same thing. You should prepare a proper apology to Lilia._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

 

“I apologized to her, for some reason she was surprised. Oof, I hope I’m not coming off as arrogant to anyone, I don’t want to be that kind of champion. Hm….After she was surprised she softened up quite a bit, Liliya can be somewhat stern….Hm…..HMMMMMMMM….Mh. Anya, I’m going to incorporate surprises into my routine, what do you think? Um, I’m not sure how yet, but I’ll figure it out, I think, if I do something unexpected, it’ll really motivate people, you know? I think if they see something surprising, maybe they’ll be able to think of some things in a different light? I don’t know, it’s a thought I’m developing – I think I can help people with skating! Afterall it’s what I do best!”

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_I think that’s a wonderful idea. I know a thing or two myself about surprises, and I’m sure you’ll come up with something fantastic._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

 

“Anya, Liliya is wondering how my clothes keep changing, I told her I had a family friend who is helping out when they can, I hope that’s okay, I will keep you a secret, don’t worry!”

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_Thank-you._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

 

“Anya, you don’t spend ALL your time in the closet do you? That must not be very comfortable…I can’t imagine being in one place so long!”

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_I do get out, as stated before I catch my food, and I use your teapot, grant it all require but a few minuets of my time. I also travel in gathering materials for our sewing projects, your sugar cubes, and other necessities. I get quite the workout when it’s all over; it keeps me young. The closet is mainly my workspace. I am very much aware the apartment is my home, never fear._

_Your Seamstress, Anya._

 

“Anya….the Junior Grand Prix Final is at the end of the month…Aleksandr will be there…”

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_I will be there as well. I am in the fabric that adorns you, that protects you. He won’t be able to lay a hand on you. I promise. Skate your best Viktor, now is your chance to show just how far Viktor Nikiforov has come. You are not the same person you once were, you are greater._

_Come morning, I will have a surprise for you._

_Your smallest fan, Anya._

 

Come morning, Viktor opened that closet, and found a brand-new costume waiting for him. He almost dropped to his knees, it was his dream costume, the one he saw himself wearing once he was a star, a real star; there was a tiny note hitched on the collar.

 

_“You dreamed about being adorned in gems and starlight…I am only too happy to be able to fulfill that dream…”_

_Your friend, Anya._

 

Viktor read the last line in the letter over and over. He ran over to the closet, threw the door open and yelled, “YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND ANYA!”

Only silence returned the affection, but Viktor could feel her, he could feel the gratitude from Anya. He left the closet open, talking out loud, “You’re my best friend Anya. The bestest. Always. Always….”

Anya stayed put, mainly because she didn’t want Viktor to hear how hard she was crying, and for protocol. She considered herself a rather ugly crier, but these were tears of joy at least.

Viktor clutched the letter tightly.

And so the day came. The Junior Grand Prix Final was today in St. Petersburg. How fast, how fast, _how fast_ the time flies.

Viktor was trying to get his hair done up in a braid, he’s made his hair thousands of times before, but today, today his hands just refused to work. It would be the first time he’s seen the boy since his departure from Yakov’s rink.

Not that they needed him or his buddies. Viktor’s performances had given Yakov’s rink a second wind. Viktor was doing this, he was keeping his word and repaying his debt of kindness the only way he knew how.

And yet he could feel the phantom welts on his skin.

Viktor rubbed his arms…..If he could just get his hair up, get himself together, he was coming undone, just at the mere thought….!

_*….I haven’t made any progress at all…*_

Before Viktor could cry, he noticed his closet door was still open.

He thought…would it be so much to ask….he needs help….He walked over, his hands shaking, “Um…Anya…could…you…?”

Silence.

Viktor turned away….and then, in the smallest voice, “….Close your eyes.”

Viktor’s hands stopped shaking, he quickly brought his chair over and sat down facing out towards the window, his back to the closet, and he dutifully closed his eyes.

The wait was merely seconds, but it felt like forever…..suddenly, and ever so gently, Viktor felt his hair getting pulled up, his breath hitched in his throat – this was the first time they had ever been so close, but he wasn’t scared as the unseen limbs worked his hair like how a skilled weaver of 1000 years would spin gold, so they spun Viktor’s hair into a beautiful set of braids that formed an artistic line down his back, the most beautiful braided pony tail Viktor would ever see.

Once Viktor felt Anya’s presence retreat, he opened his eyes, and beheld her work, and he wasn’t afraid anymore.

“Thank-you Anya….thank-you so much….”

“You’re welcome….Go be great.”

Viktor made his tea, plopped in the tiny sugar cube, and once he sipped it, he was convinced that there wasn’t a soul alive that was going to rattle him.

Come competition time, Viktor retold the history of the heavens in each motion, each turn, each jump, each expression was perfect, and as the music faded out, his hand reaching up towards the lights above – the crowd roared, roared in delight of the spectacle they had witnessed. Viktor could hear nothing else but the cheers, and could see nothing else but happy faces all about him. He hugged himself, it would be the only way he could feel her hug at the kiss and cry, and he wished so much, even as impossible as it was that she could be there…

Viktor hoped she was watching, she had to be, his place was as much as her place now, it was their home, hopefully she was watching the TV right now (she was), and Viktor signed in Sign Language for the cameras to pick up, ‘My best for Anya’ (Anya fell off her ceiling perch she was so moved).

In the end, Viktor stood on the podium, and Aleksandr did not. Viktor had won gold, and Aleksandr went to go wait for him to talk.

Alas it wasn’t an apology.

“You…”

“Me…?”

Viktor felt he was going to get ambushed, he hoped it was just Aleksandr, he wasn’t sure if he could take a group here backstage, Viktor was just trying to get to the restroom to reapply his make-up –

“You don’t deserve that…”

“I think I do. I didn’t fall, not once, not in competition where it really matters” –

The young man lunged at Viktor, but Viktor dodged him, putting a railing in-between them –

 _“Why do you hate me so much?!”_ Viktor yelled, _“What did I ever do to you?!”_

“YOU’RE ALIVE” –

Viktor couldn’t wrap his head around it as he tried to avoid Aleksandr’s clawing hands, _“I don’t understand, please, please, I haven’t done anything to you!”_

“You need to die, you just NEED, _TO DIE” –_

Now Viktor could either be scared, _or really scared,_ that his person, _this child,_ this peer his age was filled with so much _hatred_ that he was trying to harm Viktor for no other reason than vitriol.

And Viktor realized….

_*Oh Anya, is this what you fear? Being hated, just for being you? Just for being something you can’t help? That’s why you keep hidden? That’s why you hide away isn’t it?*_

Viktor stood his ground –

_*Anya, you’re worth being able to stand out in the light, and so am I!!!*_

Aleksandr grabbed Viktor by his collar, holding him up, Viktor was not giving in, he’ll defend himself, _enough of this!!_

“You’re just jealous,” said Viktor, “If you could only see how much is missing from you, how many holes you have in your soul then maybe you wouldn’t be so much of a jerk!….You can do your worst, _I’m whole,”_ Viktor’s eyes were shining, _“And you will never unravel me again.”_

Aleksandr’s hands wrapped around his neck – _“I’ll squash you like a bug, RIGHT UNDER MY BOOT, no, I’ll CUT YOU IN HALF WITH MY BLADE” –_

_“ALEKSANDR – GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HIM!!!”_

Aleksandr flinched, he still had a grip on Viktor’s neckline, he looked up, alarmed, _caught,_ and saw just in time Yakov snag him by his own collar and drag him to the rink’s doorway, throwing him out into the snow.

As Viktor sank down against the wall, he tuned out the tongue-lashing Yakov served up to his disgraced competitor. He pushed himself up and headed back to the ice, his refuge, his future, himself, after all, he had adoring fans that he needed to attend to.

He was shaking, he held himself, and he wished, he wished, _he wished…._

Viktor took a deep breath. There were going to be more battles ahead. He would get into more scrapes….

_Thank-goodness he had a Seamstress. The he had a friend, a best friend…_

_That he had a…._

When Viktor returned home, he found a large box (way more bigger than a sugar cube!) and inside, Viktor found books on hair braiding, the classics of ice skating, ballet, _the royals_ – Viktor jumped up and down – of course there was a little letter, but all it read was _CONGRATULATIONS VIKTOR!! YOU WERE AMAZING!!_

 

Viktor thought of all that he had accomplished since Anya arrived. Junior Champion. Grand Prix Champion. World Record Holder. Worlds Champion….He finally asked her a question that had bubbled up from time to time, but couldn’t ever bring himself to ask it, for fear of the answer….

“Anya…how will you know when I no longer need you?”

_I will know. Once you are well enough, I will leave._

“Even if I don’t want you to go?”

_When you need me, I will be here, but the time will come when you won’t. Don’t get me wrong Viktor, that is not a time to fear, but to celebrate. Look at where you were emotionally. Look at where you are now. I know you understand what I have been helping you with. You have sailed along wonderfully –_

“You don’t ever have to leave Anya! Never! You don’t even have to be Seamstress anymore! My home is your home, you made this a home! I never, gave this place another thought until you came!.....You mean so much to me Anya….I never….”

Viktor understood he was being a little selfish….

_Viktor, you know how to sew now. You can braid your hair better than I can, you can cook wonderful dishes, but above all Viktor, you feel better about yourself, and your future. Remember, Seamstress do patchwork, we help you get where you need to be. You are blossoming into a wonderful young man, and I truly am…proud of you. Celebrate your victories Viktor, the day you won’t need me, it will be a good one._

“….Thank-you Anya…but I…think you’re wrong on just, one thing…about me not needing you…That implies you are nothing more than a tool….and you are so much more than that…I want you to be happy….I will respect your rules, it’s the least I can do, I’m sorry for being selfish…You must have your own life you want to get back to….But…if I may…I’m going to make you things now Anya, I mean, to help me continue to grow of course. So…I still need you to stick around just a little bit longer okay? I’m going to make you a pillow and a blanket, is that okay?”

_More than okay. I most certainly can stay around a little longer._

At the end of their conversation, Anya told Viktor that Seamstresses typically only stay around a couple months, almost a year in some rare cases.

In the end, Anya will have stayed with Viktor for nearly two and a half years.

She didn’t really want to leave either.

And they were very, very happy together.

**~*~*~**

It was only days before the Senior Grand Prix Final when the patchwork Anya did for Viktor would be tested to its absolute fullest.

Viktor arrived home, quickly putting his things away, he could only think about two things, his first Senior Grand Prix, and that he would have but one person he was performing for.

He had performed for his fans. He had performed for Yakov and Lilia.

He had performed for himself.

But come the Senior Grand Prix, that belonged to one person, and one alone.

He asked a special request of Anya, to give his costume starlight. She replied to him that she would have it done a little early this time, and asked Viktor not to wait till the next morning to open the closet, but to open it as soon as he got home to see his updated look.

Viktor all but skipped to his closet and upon opening the door, the light that dazzled off his costume stole his breath.

It was as if she had plucked each gem from the heavens themselves. Viktor was wearing the night sky, the additions to his costumes were the Constellations of Anya’s home.

“Oh Anya, Anya!” Viktor squealed, “It’s perfect! It’s perfect! Thank-you! Thank-you so much!” Of course he was met with silence as usual, but he knew her presence was there. “I have a surprise for you Anya! There’s a reason I asked for my costume this way!”

It was only then he noticed the letter attached to his costume.

“Oh?”

Viktor took the tiny letter and wasted no time inhaling the contents:

 

_Dearest Viktor,_

_What I write next, will not be easy for you to read. I will be blunt. It is time for my departure._

_I’m sorry. I know you still want me to stay, but I cannot, not any longer._

_I have lived a long life Viktor….longer than….many, many Seamstresses have ever lived… I have gone far past my limits, and now I have no choice, it is time for me to say goodbye. Come morning, I will no longer be on this earth. I don’t want you to cry, but I know that is what you will do, and I’m very sorry for that. I am, very happy that I was not only your Seamstress, but your friend. My time, my life with you was wisely spent. Seamstresses do patchwork, we help people become whole again…And you Viktor, I must be honest, you helped me be whole too. I was greatly enriched by our friendship, thank-you so much Viktor._

_I’m so, so sorry I couldn’t make it past your first Senior Grand Prix, I tried, but know that I will be watching you. I will never truly leave you. Do take care Viktor, I will be cheering for you, but now I cheer from heaven._

_I promise after you make your tea, you will feel better._

_Love, now and for always, Anya._

 

Viktor’s heart shattered.

He completely threw open his closet and called to the dark corner, _“ANYA!”_ He knew she was still here, she had to be – _“ANYA!!! Anya…Anya, if this is to be our last night together….(*hic…..hic*)…Let me….let me hold you…please….”_ Viktor raised his arms up to the dark depths of the closet, _“Let me hold you Anya. You will not leave alone, I won’t allow it!”_

There was a silence, enough so that Viktor feared Anya had passed already, till, a stubby leg ending in a single-toed paw reached out to touch the tip of his finger, slightly recoiling as soon as they made contact, but Viktor did not budge, his arms held wide and open for her, and Anya slowly descended from the darkness, a spider, fuzzy, very fuzzy, almost like a cat, she was wearing a black shawl and a leghorn bonnet, but you could see how gray (almost white!) she was underneath. She fit in his hands like a kitten, her eyes were large, and milky….Viktor could feel her shaking, as if she was trying to hold herself from falling to ashes.

Viktor was in tears, _was she in pain?_.… _“Anya….”_

“Oooh…hello Viktor.”

_“C-Can you see me? Are you in pain?”_

“I cannot, I am not in pain, but I can feel you, and of course I know what you look like.”

Viktor broke down, _she had still finished his costume – he asked so much of her – too much of her –_

_“Anya…When...?”_

“Not too long ago….Shhh, shhhh, it’s okay Viktor, it’s okay,” she patted his hands, “Honestly it is. Darkness is the comfort of dreams, and you were mine.”

_“Anya….you’re beautiful.”_

“….Thank-you.”

Viktor held her up to his face and kissed her on her forehead his tears dripping all over her. Anya, with her paw, and as gentle a touch as Viktor ever felt, wiped the tears away from his cheek.

“Sweet boy…..could, you take me by the window?”

Viktor walked over to the window, and opened it.

“Thank-you, I feel the night, right here is good.”

Viktor sat in the moonlight with her, looking at Anya for the longest time as she rested in the cup of his hands. Finally, he spoke, his voice down to a hoarse whisper, “Anya…I’m skating the Senior Grand Prix Final for you, only for you, only for… _my….”_ Viktor lost it again, his voice hitching in his throat as his breath cut through his teeth. He had to say it, he had to say this at least before it was too late, _“For my…..my Mamochka.”_

Viktor felt Anya shudder so hard, he thought that was it, that was her soul leaving, but Anya composed herself.

“You’re not my _Shveyka,”_ Viktor continued, “you’re my _Mamochka. I wish, I told you s-s-soo-hon-n-ni-er,”_ Viktor clutched Anya to his heart as he curled around her and cried, and cried, and cried, _and cried._ He felt Anya’s gentle pats on his chest. She would never be large enough to hug him, never-the-less, Viktor felt her embrace.

They took this moment in time for themselves, nothing further needed to be said.

Until it was time, and Anya could hold on no longer.

 “My sweet Vitya, lift me up please,” she whispered, he did, “Dearest….You’re going to be just fine,” her voice hitched, she kissed his palm.

 _“I love you Mamochka_.”

“I love you too. Be, _good._ _Take care.”_

Viktor could only watch as Anya exhaled her last breath, the weight he felt disappeared, her body turning into a spark of light, he was no longer holding Anya, but a star, and that star shot from his hands, out the window, and into the night sky, into the constellations above to help keep the heavens patched together.

Viktor stood perfectly still after witnessing such a moment, his hands still clutched together before him, till he let them fall away to his side.

He knew exactly which star she was, he leaned upon the windowsill looking towards his only family shining down on him as tear, after tear, after tear fell from him. Eventually he pushed himself up, and got into bed…He knew if he held his hand out, he would only hurt to feel no one hold it, but, that was okay, because he knew of the Seamstress who did.

His mother.

Viktor never thought he would feel the pain of losing a parent, it never crossed his mind, but now, not only had he lost a friend, a best friend, this was the first of a parent’s love he had ever truly felt, and now, they were gone.

The tears came, and much they came, but the warmth in his being dried them, the patchwork on his broken heart the Seamstress did held Viktor together. It would do no good to have a hole in his heart of her, that’s not what Anya would have wanted. All the memories Viktor had of her, filled him with love, _so much that it was overflowing…_

And that’s what got him through the next couple of days leading up to the Grand Prix.

Viktor had saved the last sugar cube from her. He knows she intended him to drink it, and he will.

He used it the morning of the Senior Grand Prix, and when he opened the tiny present for the last time, dropped it in his tea for the last time, and sipped it….that familiar warmth, for the last time, spread through him all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes, reassuring him that everything will be okay. It will.

_And honestly…It would be a long, long time till I ever drank tea as sweet again._

 

Viktor tapped his teacup, gazing into its reflected light. Yuuri was snuggled right next to him, utterly in tears, he had used up two boxes of tissues and was working on a third one.

Viktor sighed fondly, “All the clothes the Seamstress, my Mamochka, fixed, none of them never, ever fell apart again. They’re strong as they were the day she remade them,” Viktor smiled, “That’s why they held up so well over the years. I can’t fit into them anymore but still…My costumes, my shirts, my pants, my shoes, she fixed them all up.” Viktor looked to Yuuri, “Seamstresses don’t grant wishes, they do patchwork, but…. _Anya_ ….She did both for me…” Viktor wiped a stray tear from his face, “It goes a looooong way, just knowing there’s someone willing to stand besides you to help fix things….” Viktor took Yuuri’s hand, _“It goes, such a long way…”_

Yuuri nodded, snorting up sniffles, _“Yes it does,”_ he croaked, he kissed Viktor’s hand. Viktor gave Yuuri such a small, almost timid expression,

“I, want to show you…hang on” – hastily Viktor got up from the couch, trotting over to their bedroom, Yuuri heard him rustle about, and when he returned, he had an armful of journals, “Here, look, look through them…”

Yuuri did, they were the writings Viktor and Anya shared of their two and a half years together….There were even drawings they shared between each other!….Colorings….games, tic-tac-toe…As Viktor sipped on his tea he watched Yuuri go on one hell of a face journey –

_“Oh Viktor!”_

“So, you believe me? Right?”

“Of course I do! I don’t see how I couldn’t!” Yuuri tried to wipe his tears away, _“Oh Viktor,_ that little spider, Seamstress, _‘Shveyka’, Mamochka,”_ Yuuri choked up, “ _I’m so thankful they were there for you.”_

Viktor squeezed Yuuri’s hand, “They kept me whole, gave me strength, till I found you, and discovered a part of my heart I didn’t even _know_ could be filled any further,” Viktor touched his forehead to Yuuri’s, “Now I am _truly_ complete.”

Yuuri’s smile matched his, _“So am I.”_

The couple shared the sweetest of kisses, Viktor all but spilling his teacup as they almost let themselves get carried away with the kiss, Viktor giggled, “Would do no good to spill this! It took me a long time to find tea as sweet as the one Mamochka helped make.”

“Oh?” Yuuri blinked, “What brand is this?”

Viktor looked to Yuuri while sipping loudly on his tea, “It’s called Tea with Yuuri, and I get to drink it every day.”

They kissed again, this time with the tea safely secured.

*****

_Little Seamstress in the sky,_

_Busy sewing by and by,_

_Catching dreams we have sought,_

_Keeping sleeping ambitions taut,_

_Weaving hope into our heart,_

_Till the day that we depart,_

_Little Seamstress in the sky,_

_Busy sewing by and by,_

_Such a task you are bestowed,_

_To keep the sky above, and the people below, whole._

 

 

_Dearest Vitya,_

_The wedding was beautiful. I’m sorry it rained afterwards, I cried too much. You were dazzling. Yuuri was gorgeous. I must say they did a good job on the tuxedos._

_You have done so well Vitya._

_I am so proud of you._

_Love, now and for always, your Mamochka._

 

**The End**


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